


As the World Falls Down

by Lindzzz



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Brainwashing, Labyrinth AU, M/M, One sided, attempted magical roofie?, very very loose labyrinth AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-27
Updated: 2013-11-27
Packaged: 2018-01-02 19:01:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1060409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lindzzz/pseuds/Lindzzz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quick oneshot I did for Blackice Week Prompt 1: Masquerade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As the World Falls Down

His dream is filled with masks.

No. Not a dream. Was it? His mind can’t decide which it is, fluttering back and forth between knowing this is a dream then being so painfully sure of reality.  
  
It has to be real. He suspects it’s a dream and if this WAS a dream then he’d never know, right? That’s how dreams work. That’s what he thinks, at least. His mind is filled with a strange gauze, muddled and clouded and blurring everything around him. It’s a blur anyway, there’s too much movement, too much noise and laughter and the sound of feet over the onyx floor as pairs upon pairs of endless shadow clad dancers twirl between black marble pillars and under black velvet drapes.  
  
Jack can smell the wine and thick incense in the air, can hear the music as if it’s coming through from far underwater, feel the heat of the bodies and the cool white silk over his skin. His clothes seem simple, compared to the other dancers who are all resplendent in black silks and leathers and velvets, done up in complicated laces and great drapes and billowing skirts all pouring with gold and deep black jewels that suck light into them and hoard color for themselves on oily gleaming faceted surfaces.   
  
He’s wearing a simple white shirt, though the material is as light and silken as a spun dream of snow against his skin, and the drapes of his sleeves are heavy with drops of diamonds. There are diamonds hanging from the edges of the veil, which he’s just noticed for some reason. It’s such a sheer, light thing, like mist draped over his head. The front of it weighed with diamonds just below his neck, where they dangle in front of his chest like ice caught in midair, while he can feel the back brushing against the deep black floor that feels far too warm for stone under his bare feet.   
  
It has to be a dream, then. Who doesn’t wear shoes to a masquerade? Or a mask. Jack is pretty sure that a flimsy veil hardly counts as a mask, especially compared to the array of fantastic beasts and legendary monsters captured in black half and full masks of deep velvet and gold piping hiding the faces of all the other dancers. He feels bare and exposed, the closest thing to any color he has on is the dove grey of his soft trousers, fastened with more diamonds about his calves, but he’s left small and simply white in this sea of fantastic plush shadow.  
  
Definitely a dream. Has to be. Is it?  
  
-Of course not. Everything else was a dream. This is all that’s real. All that there is is in here.-  
  
Of course, he was dreaming before. That’s right.   
  
He drifts through the dancers, worrying about anyone stepping on his veil, though all the dancers seem to drift around him without ever colliding or coming too close. They’ll weave and dart in, laughing and jarring and smiling through masks (are they masks? It’s hard to tell on some of them where their skin ends and the black mask begins) as they spin around him, but they never come too close.  
  
What a strange dream it was…he was looking for something.  
  
What was it?  
  
It was important…it was so important. And time had pulled on him, rushed and prodded sharply to the point that he can still hear the soft ticking of a clock. Can’t he? He could a moment before…  
  
What was he looking for?  
  
It starts to gnaw on him, through the glaze in his mind and the crush of people around him, it pulls on him. He was looking for something he needed to find it, needed to find it now! The veil drags as he begins darting around, head twisting as he tries to spot something, something that will help him remember what he needed to find. It had been so important!   
  
There’s a clock ticking, somewhere far away, just at the edge of his awareness, though it’s so clear over the eerie wavering music and the harsh laughter of the revelers. The sound of his feet slapping on the stone as he sprints this way and that falls in time with the ticking of the clock, in time with his heartbeat and the rising panic in his chest because he has to find it has to find whatever it was that was lost what was it-?  
  
His hand is caught, gently and slowly captured by long fingers that curl over like a loose cage, pulling him back into the throng of the crowd. The clock fades, muffled by soft drapery and sweet music as he’s carefully lead deeper into the dance hall. Jack keeps his eyes on the deep shadow at the edges of the masquerade, still feeling a pull in his chest. It fades, and he looks away to turn himself to his captor.   
  
He’s tall, taller than any of the other dancers, and his mask sits high on sharp cheekbones, the nose curving down as the sharp beak of a raven and a spray of feathers crowning over the top of his head, jet black and tipped in gold. His outfit is simpler than the other dancers, though still more extravagant than Jack’s costume. The man’s silken shirt with a plunging neckline and plain leather breeches seems a mirror of Jack’s white clothes. The greatest decoration is a sweeping cloak stitched with gleaming black feathers and the gold pouring from his wrists and neck.  
  
He’s very…familiar. Something in the sharp smile under the beak of the mask catches at Jack’s mind.  
  
“Do I know you?” Jack asks, frowning but unresisting when the taller dancer pulls him in. The fingers curled around his hand are a touch firmer, more solid as Jack is swept into a simple dance. Another hand wraps around his waist, and he feels like something small caught in the long claws of something much larger and much more dangerous. The man smiles, the cloak swings forward around him, surrounding Jack in muffled black and the rustle of night and feathers.  
  
“I’m your king.” The man says, his voice low and smooth, pitched softly for Jack’s ears alone.   
  
“My king…” Jack repeats, the words falling from him easily, naturally, like they were put there and only waited to come out again. He frowns and shakes his head, feeling woozy and lightheaded as they glide over the dance floor. It feels wrong, though it must have been right, because the man’s smile widens when Jack says it.  
  
There was something…  
  
Something important…  
  
Jack didn’t realize that he was looking around until the hand on his waist comes up, cupping his cheek through the veil and turning his head to look up into the golden eyes watching him carefully through the holes of the mask. “Are you unhappy?” His king asks.  
  
“No…” Of course he isn’t. Isn’t he? Why would he be? “I was…I was looking for something. Could you help me find it?”  
  
The hand’s back on his waist, wrapping around the small of his back and drawing him into the heat radiating from the man’s lean body. “You’ve found it already.” His king says with a smile, his voice sliding over Jack’s mind. “Everything you want is right here.”  
  
“Oh…” Jack frowns again, chewing on his lip. The veil is heavy over his head and it’s too warm, that’s probably why he feels so muddled. He goes to lift it, just to get a breath of fresh air and clear his head a bit, but his hand is captured, long fingers grabbing his wrist and slowly easing it back down so both of Jack’s hands are held warm and firm.  
  
“You seem tired.” The King says kindly, pulling him away from the main throng of dancers to a pile of artfully arranged black cushions.   
  
“Yeah. My head just feels weird.” Jack says, grateful for the rest when he flops back against one of the huge pillows. “It’s all…wobbly.”  
  
The King settles close behind him, a little to the side and an arm resting lightly over his shoulders. “Just rest here for a bit. Are you hungry?”  
  
He is, Jack realizes. “A little, I guess, yeah.”   
  
The platter appears in front of him so fast that he jumps a bit, laughing at himself as he tries to shake the fuzz from his head again. It’s black, like everything else here, held up by the King’s free hand and piled high in glossy shining black berries.  
  
Their sweet smell is thick and cloying, drowning out other senses and Jack can already feel the juice in his mouth, just as sweet and good. He doesn’t think anything has smelled as good as them.  
  
But there’s something in their gloss, he thinks, his hand already raised halfway to one on the top of the pile. Something toxic in the color, like a sickly sheen over them. The smell is too much, it’s too heady and makes him feel even drowsier.  
  
The King lifts the plate a little, expectantly. “Weren’t you hungry, Jack?”  
  
“I…I don’t know. I think it’s too hot in here. I’m not sure if I could stomach anything right now, maybe later?”  
  
The hand on his shoulder tightens, just slightly, then relaxes again and the plate vanishes somewhere behind his back. “Of course. Whenever you like. Perhaps a drink instead? To help clear your head and settle you down.”   
  
“Yeah, that sounds good.” He’s ready this time, when the large goblet appears. It’s a bit gaudy, and more like a bowl than a real cup, but he’s not going to complain. The heat must have been distracting him, because he hadn’t noticed before how dry his mouth is, how his tongue feels like a shriveled thing covered in sand. Jack can barely think of anything now but at least taking a sip of the sweet smelling dark liquid in the goblet.  
  
It’s not as heavy as he thought it would be, the liquid barely rippling as he take the bowl of the goblet in his palms and lifts it. The spinning dancers around them are reflected in the liquid, which feels cool through the cup and smells so perfectly sweet like the berries had. Jack’s lips touch the rim of the cup and he’s just begun to tilt the goblet towards his mouth when the smell becomes too much. He lowers it quickly, wrinkling his nose and wincing when the smell crowds through his senses, syrupy and overwhelmingly fragrant. It’s like half rotten fruit combine with flowers and something else that’s oozy and viscous.   
  
“Aren’t you thirsty, Jack?” The King asks, hand tensing on his shoulder and fingers touching the bottom of the goblet, pushing it gently towards Jack again.  
  
“Yeah but this seems kind of strong.” Jack says, eyeing the liquid dubiously. “I feel lightheaded enough as it is, I don’t know if I want to be drinking anything this heady right now.”  
  
“It will help. Just a sip and you’ll feel better.” The King urges, hand coming over Jack’s to grip the bowl of the goblet tightly. “Just take a drink, and everything will be right.”  
  
The movement in the ripples is distracting.  
  
Jack watches them, thinking he may see things in them.  
  
Seeing things…he was looking for.  
  
“I was looking for something.” He says, blinking down into the reflections.  
  
“It wasn’t important.” The King snaps. “Think, Jack! If it were important, you wouldn’t have forgotten it, would you?”  
  
                                 _Jack!_  
  
“It was important.” Jack is sure of it now, it was so important. He just needs to remember…  
  
“Nothing else is important! Everything you need is here!” The King snarls now, his fingers digging into Jack’s shoulder like talons.  
  
                                                              _Jack! Help!_  
  
Jack stares into the liquid. There’s something he can’t quite see, something that’s just outside of his awareness. The veil is light, but it still clouds his vision slightly, the stupid thing. He moves to lift it again, huffing in frustration. The hand on his shoulder lets go quickly, but doesn’t stop him fast enough when he throws the edge of diamonds over the top of his head.  
  
There’s a reflection in the liquid. A face, a face he knows.  
  
The goblet falls with a clatter, dark liquid spilling over the floor and pillows as he shoots up. “Emma! Where’s my sister?”  
  
The King hisses behind him. The Nightmare King. The Shadow King. Pitch. Jack can recognize him now, snarling and ripping off his mask as the hall and dancers shatter into a million pieces. The shards spin around them, showing mad flashes of sound and visions of a party that goes on.  
  
“Is this not good enough then?” Pitch snarls, The raven’s head mask vanishing into shadow as he throws it down. “I make an entire world, all for you, and it’s not enough!?”  
  
Jack rips the veil off and throws it down, the diamonds exploding with the sound of musket fire when they hit the floor that isn’t there anymore. “Where is she!? I’m sick of your games! I was almost done with your stupid labyrinth when you cheated!”  
  
“I made everything, did everything,  _for you_!” Pitch hisses, hands coming up to lock over Jack’s shoulders. “I bent time, I distorted space, I went into your mundane world just to bring you here!”  
  
“I didn’t want you to! What made you think that I wanted any of this? And what part of drugging me and trying to trick me into eating your stupid food seems like something I should appreciate?”  
  
“You aren’t worth the clothes you stand in!” Pitch spits, the hands on his shoulders sink in further and Jack can feel claw tips punch through the thin fabric of his shirt. “You’re human! Frail and mundane! I would have made you a prince! You would stand as my cold consort, brilliant and perfect!”  The hands on his shoulders let go, sweeping up to cup his face as Pitch’s voice drops to a strained whisper and his eyes get a strange, pleading gleam. “I would make you my king.”  
  
Jack smacks the hands away from him, taking a step back. “I don’t want to be king of anything!”  
  
Pitch grasps at him, fingers catching the edge of his sleeve and yanking him back in. “I would give you your dreams!” He hisses. “You wouldn’t be left with nothing to do but watching that little brat! You would rule the shadows with me, you’d be something more than anyone else in the mortal world.”  
  
“Get off me!”  
  
“Love me!” Pitch snarls, grabbing Jack again by the upper arms and gripping him desperately. “Fear me! Do as I say, and I will be your slave!”  
  
“I don’t want any of this!” Jack yells. “I just want to get my sister, go home, and not have to deal with any of your shadow stuff or you ever again!”  
  
“I could give you your dreams.” Pitch says softly, voice dangerous and hissing. “And I could give you your nightmares. You can’t defeat me, you can’t even comprehend me! I could make every waking moment you live into nothing but horror after horror! Your sister is lost! Accept me, accept everything I can give you.”  
  
He wants this to end. He’s sick of hearing the clock ticking, of wandering forever while he can hear the soft echoes of his sister crying from a distance while the shadows shift the walls around him and pull at his ankles. And Jack is especially sick of the shadow’s so called King. “I don’t have to do anything! You have no power over me!”  
  
Pitch yanks back as if burned, eyes wide and teeth bared on an angry snarl. He opens his mouth to say something, but it’s drowned out by the world shattering all over again.  
  
The shards leave nothing but void, even the image of Pitch cracks and the invisible ground finally gives out, toppling Jack down and down into the void.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
                                                                  “Jack?”  
  
He’s been falling for centuries, he’ll always be falling, there’s nothing left for him to do but fall.  
  
             “Jack! Wake up!”  
  
Something’s grabbing at his sleeve, shaking him, crashing him down.  
  
“Jack come oonnnnn! You sleep too much anyway!”  
  
He blinks, wincing at the spring light coming in through his window and rubs his eyes against the spots behind his lids. “What-?”  
  
Emma bounces on the floor next to him, gripping his sleeve with both hands and still shaking him. “Wake up! Wake up! I gotta tell you about a dream I had!”  
  
“Emma?” He sits up quickly, staring at his sister. Who grins at him like nothing ever happened. He looks around his room, fully lit and perfectly normal.  
  
“I had a dream!” She says excitedly. “You were in it! It was really bad at first. The Boogeyman took me away and he locked me up and there were all these monsters who where gonna get me, but you saved me!”  
  
“Yeah…” Jack rubs a hand over his face, blinking still against the light. “Yeah…looks like I did.” He grins at her, heart pounding while he tries to get his head together.  
  
“You did!” She repeats, bouncing on her feet.  
  
“Some dream, huh Em?” He asks, standing up and swooping her off her feet. “I’m glad it was just a dream though.”  
  
Something flutters outside his window and Jack looks around, then freezes when he sees the large, jet black raven sitting on a branch, watching them with sharp, golden eyes.  
  
“Just a dream.” He repeats, holding his sister close. “And dreams don’t have any power over you.”


End file.
